The Jedi's Struggle
by Demondayne
Summary: When an absent Master and her padawan return to the Temple on Coruscant, opinions collide, new feuds spark and dangerous pasts are uncovered.
1. Prologue

DISCLAIMER: I do now own the idea of Star Wars, George Lucas does. None of the concepts below belong to me, please don't sue me. On the other hand, all the characters are original and do belong to me, until further notice (as in I might add in one of Mr. Lucas' characters later.)

Hope you like, it was my first try at Sci-Fi fan fiction. To the readers from Jedi Temple: hope you don't mind the butchering I did of you characters. Tell me if you want them out. 

Enjoy!

-Demondayne

*

The darkness-shrouded man stood a full head taller than the woman in front of him. He was wearing a cloak that completely covered his face, leaving only shadows and guesses. He stood proud, looming and dangerous at the same time. The woman appeared to be a walking weapon. Hooked to each side of her belt were twin 9" blasters, matched by smaller models strapped to her calves. There were also two daggers latched to her forearms, primitive weapons but useful nonetheless. The way she held herself; right knee slightly bent to give off a casual stance at first glance, arms folded under her breasts, and eyes latched on the tall man, reeked with readiness to use the weapons she carried at any given moment.

From the confines of hidden pouches, the shady man took out a sack, whose contents clanged gingerly inside. He thrust it at the woman and made a snarling sound.

"Wren, I want them brought back to me dead, you hear?" His voice dripped with contempt and anger. Smooth and deep however, enough to make a Coruscant tavern-maid swoon. "Unspoiled. Otherwise, take whatever you want." 

Wren caught the bag and tossed it into the sack hanging from her back and nodded curtly. 

"As the highest bidder commands," she said through gritted teeth. Not the first time this man had paid an incredible amount of money for her...services. Usually it involved disposing of a few out-of-hand politicians, or slipping into a gallery and bringing something out unnoticed. This time... Reminding herself of what the reward would be when the task completed, she fingered her left-side blaster. 

"You will see that the particular materials needed to excel are in your ship-" he continued before being cut off by the woman.

"You've been in my ship?" Wren demanded angrily. No one touched her model 16 Edge without her permission, no matter how much they paid. "If there is so much as a scratch-"

"You can be assured that nothing other than the hatch and door-commands have been touched..." She raised an eyebrow and he continued "...and none of your modifications have been scanned or removed." Wren frowned, then finally nodded reluctantly. There were things on that ship she had managed to...alter that would send her to the courts without a doubt of the outcome.

The man turned to leave, but she had one more question. A dangerous one, but needed.

"Why those two? There are other Jedi that have caused more trouble, why them?" He turned on a dime, then came up so close to her face that Wren could feel his breath, and see glints of reflected light from his eyes.

"Because that is what I said, and that is why bounty hunters are paid." He replied in a manner that made Wren take a step back. He moved a foot forwards, hesitated, then brought it back. "If the circumstances make you uncomfortable, I can always find another," he said. Wren was sure that under that hood he was smiling wickedly at her. She sniffed and turned in the direction of the hangar holding her ship.

"If you were to find another, you'd be paying twice the amount you are now, and he'd probably not be able to finish the job. You came to me for a reason, right?" He snorted, an odd sound coming from him, and she turned her back and headed towards her ship. She barely heard him mutter behind her. She wished she had not.

"Reason? You're the only one who knows what I'll do if you fail." With that she shivered and ducked out of the room.

*******

Swarth watched after the woman a few moments before turning to go himself. To be caught too long in one place was fatal to anyone like him.

The building they had met in was more of a maze than anything else, but that had purpose. Training. Most was painted the same colour, with exact precision unmatched by any outsider's droid. That had a purpose too. He had spent a great many years in this Temple, training, fighting, contesting and climbing rank. This place had no secrets to him now.

With a sure foot, he made his way around to a door, identical to its two neighbours, and put his palm to the scanner besides it. Those scanners had been designed by a pupil here. Quite a brilliant mind that one. Too bad he had had to be set down after escaping. No matter now.

The grey, nondescript door slid smoothly open. Swarth removed his hood and stepped inside to see the slim figure of a young woman sitting causally in the chair at his desk. Her posture marked her as short, but he knew she would still grow a few inches. She had brown hair cut to her cheeks- a personal choice- and brown eyes that sometimes held incredible amounts of emotion. She was very thin, almost unhealthily so, to the point that her long fingers seemed skeletal.

She looked up to meet his eyes and slowly got up, bowing.

"Master Swarth, sir, I had come as soon as your message came, but you were not here." A voice that could fool any member of the Senate, without sweat.

"Vaun, I have told you, do not hack the wires," he said dryly. Vaun snorted and threw up her hands, seeing the formality had disappeared.

"But it's so simple! The entire Temple is just sitting here, waiting for me to explore it. Without getting lost!" The latter came after a moments pause. Half a dozen times Swarth had had to fetch his very young Leaner from the darker depths of the Temple, just to have her run off and get lost in the city the day after.

"Sit," he commanded darkly, not in the mood for her youthful energy. "I am expecting someone important, who could very well change everything here." He was used to trusting Vaun by now, although he had only been personally teaching her a scant few years. She had to know, lest anything happen to him and his plans. "When they come, you know to become the meek Learner, understood?" He roughly cupped her bony chin in his two fingers, forcing her face up. "Understood?"

"Yes, Master Swarth," she answered. Suddenly the high-pitched ring, signalling someone outside his quarters, rang. Immediately Vaun backed to a corner, eyes cast down. Swarth let out a ragged breath as he walked back to his door, admitting the person outside.

Gender was hard to determine- it did not matter, really- as the individual was clad in a black cloak similar to the one Swarth himself was wearing. Blackcloak strolled in, uncaring of the miss of courtesy he had by not uttering a word. Not all of the residents of the Temples were mindful of customs, but times where quickly changing.

He spoke, in a voice masked by a device probably strapped to his concealed mouth.

"You have hired the bounty hunter as planned?" The sound emitted was that of a droid; cracked and obviously electronic. Swarth only nodded.

"Good. They will die." A surge of pride bubbled in Swarth, pride that they would finally be able to reveal themselves to the galaxy, show them that they had not remained extinct, quiet or docile in the thousands of years that had all but flown by.

Vaun was quietly watching the procession, curious as always but obediently staying aside. Her Master often had dangerous dealings he trusted her to witness, or sometimes take part in. This one she hoped she could.

Blackcloak had paused, as if thinking. He finally nodded in decision.

"Lafarga wants in on this, Swarth. Supposedly he has an unsettled score to settle with on of the padawans of the targets. I don't see why he should be refused." Swarth was wondering why that fledging of a Master was going after a pet of the Jedi, but he had a strange back-round. "He followed the bounty hunter." 

'_Ah well,_' thought Swarth, _'At least we'll be rid of him._' Blackcloak turned to leave, then abruptly whirled back to face Swarth again.

"You and your padawan are to follow him to the Temple. Now." The last was a word reeking in command, one expected to be heeded. Hastily Blackcloak left, leaving him to hurry to the main hangar as soon as he could.

"Master?" inquired Vaun, almost forgotten in the exchange.

"Pack your things, girl, we have some Jedi to kill."

*******

Fire had erupted on top of an enormous dome in High-City Coruscant. The flames licked up to the heavens above, fighting each other for the oxygen necessary for them to burn on. So much akin to the battle inside.

They had hit too un-expectantly. Too many, too fast. Frantic, newly-trained Jedi Knights dashed back and forth, some fetching water for the blaze, or searching for hectic padawans, or healing varied wounded. Except for one.

She ran like never before. Dark brown robes flying behind her, dark hair flying in her face, she ran to a friend, away from her looming kin. Lucid green eyes flashed in fear, an emotion she had painfully learned to exterminate from herself.

~Master Siegan!~ her mind howled, searching for the Master who had taken her in after her own had been slayed. Pictures flashed through her brain, reminiscence of the night she had found Master Rethe sprawled on her quarter floor, blood almost over-flowing through the door. The same day, same hour, Master Obsedian had been found, slayed in the same fashion. She fought them down, still running madly.

~Aurel!~ The reply had been faint; weak, sign that Seigan was quickly tiring.

~Where are you?~ Aurel replied, not daring to stop even to change her direction.

~The Left-Wing Hangar! Bring the Masters, girl! They are-~ The mindlink was painfully shattered, indicating the termination of the kind-faced Master. Aurel shrieked in pain, clutching her temples.

"NO!" she bellowed aloud, running even harder than before towards the Left-Wing. Her pursuer had to wait, she would not let the killer of the Master get away like the last.

~Aurel...~ The mindlink was forced onto her, seething in the taint of a Sith Lord. It had chanted cruelly, and she instantly knew that her follower was drawing near.

~Stay away!~ she answered, her fear spitefully obvious in her tone.

~I've come back, and this time you will not get away.~

She had reached her chosen destination, and sharply snapped out her lightsaber. It shone a radiant blue, humming with ancient technology. A short moment of regret rang through her mind, reminding her that she would have had her white one completed for the Ceremony of Trial, officially indicating she had achieved the rank of full Jedi Knight.

With rage contained until this moment, she lashed out at the closest figure sporting the Sith black. The short man let out a yell at loosing both of his arms in a flash second before tumbling to the ground. Oddly satisfying. Aurel had only the time to flatten another with aid of the Force before feeling invisible bonds tighten around her waist, legs and wrists, throwing her back violently against the opposite wall. 

Air completely expelled from her lungs, Aurel momentarily struggled to get her heart to stop pounding wildly in deprivation. Abruptly, what was keeping her plastered to the wall, disappeared, dropping her not-so-gracefully to her feet.

~You still run like the wind, little sister,~ The mindlink crooned.

"Get away!" she screamed, now oblivious to the battle around her. He was coming, the one thing she knew that if she faced, all would be lost.

~I come.~


	2. Return and Reuinion

"Construction, construction!" wined a young voice. "You'd think that five years of re-building the place would give them time to finish the blasted building." A young man sat at the controls of the YT-2400, punching in coordinates to assure them a safe landing. His hair was dead black, layer over layer of it falling almost to his shoulders. His skin was tan, sign of being native of a warm-climate system, though is eyes were clear blue, enough to look like sheets of ice.

Behind him, a woman chuckled.

"You forget, young Lorum, that originally it took 100 years to build. Re-constructing a great-dome is no easy task." Lorum snorted smartly, turning back to face the woman. She was completely concealed in a large brown robe, trademark of their religion. He knew that, although not visible now, her face was young enough, with brown, waist-long hair framing her face. The hair served to conceal the delicately pointed ears he never asked about. Her eyes were a different matter altogether. Sometimes warm with laughter, other times sternly cold, there was always a hint of sorrow and bitterness behind the green orbs. Lorum had never learned why.

Ever since the computer had ringed-in that the Coruscant system was in view, she had pulled the large hood over her face, shadowing it. He had the faintest idea that it was return to the capital that made her uneasy.

"But that was-" it took him a moment to remember his lessons. "almost a thousand years ago. Technology has changed, evolved, since then." He shot a glance back at the approaching building, large enough to hold well over 10 000 people. He studied it for a while, forever amazed at it's grandeur.

He had been to Coruscant before, been to the First Jedi Temple many times, each one of them starting with the awe. People had told him the first time that it was a regular reaction, that he'd eventually get bored of the sight, but after well over a decade of living, training, and traveling to and from it's imposing walls, he was still filled with sensation when he saw it. The one thing that was always at fault was the roof. It was still only half-completed, it's beautiful marble-white surface cracked where it abruptly ended, about three quarters-way across. He couldn't see any people from this distance, but he knew they were hard at work, rebuilding the incredible monument.

Lorum had been there, the night the Temple had been invaded. Of course, he had been a child, incapable of helping, but he remembered the blood, the panic, and the evil. Men and women clad in black, swarming everywhere, drawing their dark weapons to maim the Jedi. Naturally, he had been whisked out of sight, but the short glimpses he had caught had been enough to set him off in feverish nightmares for the next few months.

With another long look, he sat back down in the control-chair.

"They should have it done," he mumbled in frustration. The woman behind him laughed affectionately again.

'Now approaching the Docking Bay,' announced the droning computer. That was one thing he had quickly become bored with.

Lorum's muscles tightened, as always when entering the hangar. That's where he had seen the Sith. Behind him, he could feel his Master tense, the Force surrounding her thickening, almost as a shield, while outwardly she calmly folded her arms and directed her now-cool gaze to the screen ahead.

"Please state your name and occupation," ordered a voice, coming from the message-box. The woman stepped forward to be able to speak clearly, and leaned over the small speaker.

"Jedi Master Aurel Telrambar," she replied, very near bitterness. She wasn't exactly infamous, but telling anyone from and on Coruscant her name had been a problem for the past five years.

"Continue." Aurel motioned with her hand to Lorum, indicating him to move forward and land. Slowly manoeuvring so that the tip of the wing-blade didn't hit the sides, he switched on the landing commands, letting the ship automatically flip open landing pegs, adjust the pressure and so-on. He got up and moved towards to the hatch before being stopped in his tracks by gentle, unseen bonds.

"Right," he said, trying to turn back without realizing the impossibility of motion. For an odd reason, he was proud that his master was deft to the point of unconsciousness with the Force, and devilishly fast with a lightsaber. When she was supposed to be teaching him to do all these things, and him being proud of her, made no sense whatsoever, but the emotion was still there.

Lorum supposed Aurel threw his brown cloak, a lighter shade than her own, to him, since it draped over his face, blinding him with it's colour. 

"Maybe I should glue it to you, next time," she said, almost forcefully comical, "Then you wouldn't forget it and present quality entertainment for the majority of the Temple." Despite her tight tone, Lorum laughed. "Aaand," The way she drawled on was enough to want him to punch her in the arm, like he used to with his old friends. "it would give you practice; warding me off without actually being able to move." That hint, that allured to his troubles controlling the Force of late, made his cheeks burn. He could seize it, direct it, but right before releasing it to his intentions, it would slip and lash out. He had tried to explain it, but Aurel could not grasp the concept that a disembodied power could be slippery. 

"Aren't you the wise cracker," he said, while straightening the robe and shrugging into it. "While you're at it, could you sew-up the patches in our spares?" He was lucky that she had already tapped the commands to open the hatch, because the look she had flashed him echoed murder. 

The hatch ran open, showing them a scene of activity. People dressed in the varied shades of Jedi uniforms and robes were about, checking ships and the odd groups making repairs. There were also droids around, a lot of them. In almost every shape, function and size imaginable, they zipped about doing their programmed task.

As customary, Aurel took the first steps out the ship, closely followed by Lorum. They knew where to go for instructions, even though it had been five years. 

'_As if we were first-timers into a maze,_' bitterly thought Aurel while making her way to the controls room.

*******

In another room, at the other end of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, a vigorous training was in session. Four people were in a secluded room, four robes discarded near the walls, four lightsaber belts not-so-neatly piled besides them, four sweaty beings going at their task with all there was in them.

A pair of padawans with their masters, going through the old forms of skin-defence. At the beginning, it had been a good way to sharpen the padawan's concentration, but at their level, it was to keep them in shape for the harder charge. The masters were there to not only keep their strength and focus sharp along with their padawan learners, but to make sure the exercise was done properly, and to stay fit themselves. This pair was particularly strong, with rapid learning abilities.

"Always remember to feel the Force while in motion," one of the masters said, her eyes closed. Strikingly intense blond hair was tightly pulled to the back of her head, to make sure it did not get in the way. Her arm-muscles were incredibly defined, more so than the man beside her. His hair was darker, although still slightly blond. His shoulders were wide-set, his hands callused with use. He nodded at the woman's words.

"Listen to Master Ivie, both of you. Never let the Force slip, even when you are practicing things that should not outwardly involve it." Sweat trickled its way down all their faces, sign of a long session.

Abruptly, one of the younger ones laughed. The two Masters stopped their exercise to look at their padawans flatly. Ivie's eyes were sea blue; green swirled in blue. The man besides her had amber eyes, those of a wolf.

"And what," Ivie paused sharply, "is so funny, Sensae?"

"Valesse?" the man inquired roughly to the female learner. They both kept giggling as the explanations poured out.

"Master, it's all Valesse!" cried Sensae, pushing his oddly deep-blue hair from his face, to reveal the same shade eyes. "She was mindlinking me crazy thoughts!"

Ivie couldn't help but laugh quietly at the exaggerated tone her padawan's voice. So young he had been when she had first met him. He had grown since then, almost ready to be Inspected. 

During the Golden Age of the Jedi, so many younglings and children would come to the closest Jedi Temple of their system to report odd happenings concerning their children, or just to see if they were able to achieve the rate of control of the Jedi. Because there were so many, and- highly abnormally- with high potential and learning rates, it became impossible to make sure every one was ready for their Trials, let alone know if they would pass, or even survive. So the Inspection was created.

In the more busy Temples, there would be a period of time when all the higher-ranking Masters would be open to Inspect the prospect Jedi. An Inspection was the step before the Trials now; without the 'O.K.' from a Council Master, a padawan hadn't hope of passing the Trials. A mini Trial, even, just to see if the padawan learner was up to speed.

Ivie was brought back from her flashed thought by Valesse's hysteric retort.

"Well! Admit it! It was funny!" Her brown hair resembled brown sugar, her eyes a deeper shade.

"And what would the image have been?" the man intoned in his deep, stone voice. There was plain hesitation on both the padawan's faces now. 

"Master Ardus," Ivie intervened, taking on the mocking voice of a lecturer. Ardus' eye flickered towards her amicably. "Maybe a few hours, maybe days, of extra kitchen-scrubbing will change their minds." Before she could complete the end of her sentence, images transferred into her mind through the mindlink she shared with Sensae. She guessed the same has been done between Ardus and Valesse, judging by the shocked look on his face.

"Maybe they should get it anyway..." he mumbled. His eyes were blurred, sign that he was studying an image inside his mind. It was Ivie's turn to burst into laughter. Through the link she had with her padawan, she could feel Sensae become wary and shy. Still he had much to learn.

"Ardus, lump of _kah_! How to punish them of a crime we got away with as padawans?" She stared at him, eyes watering with mirth.

They never had time to discuss the issue further, for then a beige-clad youngling ran into the chamber. 

"Master Ivie! Master Ardus!" he said while trying to regain his breath.

"Take a moment," said Ardus in a patient tone. It took more than a moment for the anonymous padawan to be able to stand properly.

Finally he bowed as was proper, and turned to Ivie, saying: "Forgive me, but I was told this was of particular interest to Master Ivie Loki." When Ardus nodded and turned to round up the padawans, he continued. "Knight Link told me to pass on that there is a Master Aurel Telrambar in the Main Hangar."

Ivie closely considered his words. It had taken her a few moments to recognise the name he had given her. Master Aurel Telrambar, if Master was what she could be called. Five years ago she had committed a deep crime, by the standards of the Jedi and of her own system and people, but she had been allowed to move up to Master rank. Five years ago she had disappeared to the Outer Rim with a young padawan, claiming that he was unique. Five years gone without much as a by-your-leave, and now she was back. Master Aurel indeed.

Without showing any emotion on her face, Ivie nodded in acknowledgement to his message.

"See that Master Aurel and her padawan are showed to their respective quarters," she said as an order, "And tell Master Aurel that I would like to speak with her at the Green hour." Without asking what the 'Green hour' was, the padawan dashed out.

Ivie turned back to Ardus, who- although still sweaty and stretched from the exercise- had taken up the posture of First Master of the Temple. As his second, Ivie was distantly aware that she had taken up the same stance; cool and impenetrable. Such was the public view of two of the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy. 

'_A formidable man,_' thought Ivie as she walked towards her old friend.

"And?" he asked. Ivie took her time and looked around, seeing that Sensae and Valesse had been sent away, probably for well-earned free time.

"Do you remember a certain Aurel Telrambar?" she replied, asking a question of her own.

"Vaguely," Ardus replied, wary. Although five years was not very long, Ardus had not been First back then, therefore had had no say in the woman's fate.

"Well, apparently she's back," Ivie replied simply, and had a muted instinct to laugh at the surprised and almost..._scandalized_ look that crossed his face.

"Well, we'll have to deal with her then."

All Ivie had to do was nod. This woman- this Master Aurel- had done the worst thing imaginable, and was now going to be 'dealt-with'. The problem was, not many knew or remembered what she had done.


End file.
